picture this
by ella eternity
Summary: She could picture Jim in so many ways it scared her. JimPam.


_Authors Note: So this is my first ever attempt at Office fan fiction. I sat down last night, and this just…poured out. I've been reading JAM fics obsessively (unhealthily obsessively) for a few weeks now, and I must say that all of you are incredibly talented and that it's also the most addicting and heartbreaking pairing I've ever read. So please, read and review and look out for more JAM from me in the future!_

(picture this.)

Pam had always wanted kids. Wanted a little person that would sit on her lap and snuggle into her, an infant that she could call "dear heart", which she had always thought to be the most lovely and tender thing that anyone could be called. She had always hoped for two older boys and younger girl, so that her daughter would grow up scrappy and tough and be able to defend herself like Pam never was. She would name her little girl Abigail, which she had always thought to be a warm name, the name of girl next door that you fell in love with. One of the boys she would name Colin, a name that would make a boy sensitive; nurturing and kind in a way that many she had known weren't. She'd always dreamed of a growing belly and glowing skin, of three bedrooms filled with stuffed animals and bedtime books, of family portraits with three squirming munchkins who all looked alike.

Roy didn't want kids. He never had, but Pam always thought that he would change his mind eventually, that if she casually made him walk through Baby Gap enough times he would relent and see how wonderful it would be to raise children together. He always made it very clear, however, that he would never go to a Lamaze class with her or get excited over the first kick. Sometimes, she even caught him checking her wheel of birth control, as if he thought that she would try to cheat him into a baby. They'd had a fight about it one morning on the way to work, Roy growing annoyed when Pam inquired about the habit.

"I just want to make sure that you're not going to pull something, Pam. I know you want kids, but it just isn't right for us."

"Try to pull something! Roy…that's just…I would never do that."

"Sure you wouldn't."

She'd walked into work that day angry and with frustrated tears gathering behind her eyes. Jim wasn't at his desk yet, and his coat wasn't hanging on the rack. He was late and she was crying and it was just turning into a horrible day. Sighing, Pam opened up a game of free cell, pushing a wayward curl behind her ear.

"Hey."

"Hi."

Jim was walking through the door, slipping out of his heavy coat. She knew that he could tell that she'd been crying. She knew that he would read all of the little signs like Roy never could; her red nose, those little sniffles that she hid behind tissues and excuses of a cold, the way her eyes always got darker after her tears ended. Pam saw his face twist into a look of concern, saw him subtly check for cameras.

"Hey…what's wrong?"

Pam smoothed her hair back violently, feeling her hand shake.

"Nothing. I'm fine. Allergies."

He gave her an almost incredulous look and gently took her by the elbow, leading her into the break room.

"Spill."

Pam grimaced, sitting down at the table and fiddling with a loose screw on her chair.

"It's nothing. It's just…nothing."

Jim rolled his eyes and sat down next to her, nudging her with his elbow.

"Come on. It's not like you're going to tell me that you had a torrid affair with Dwight and now Angela is out for blood."

Pam laughed, despite herself.

"Almost. It's just that…"

She hesitated, unsure if it was safe for her to go on.

"Roy…we had a fight this morning. He…he doesn't want kids."

Pam watched as Jim struggled to control a frown, expelling a breath through his nose as he leaned back.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

She knew that he grew uncomfortable when they talked about Roy, that his tongue seemed to get the better of him and he couldn't speak. There was silence between them, complete and deadening silence, so thick and tangible that Pam had to hold onto the table in fear that she would drown in it.

Jim's phone began to ring.

Without a word, he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, the rough callus of his hand brushing against her cheek as he held her face. It was something that Pam's mother used to do when Pam would fall and scrape her knee, when Roy would disappoint her at a school dance. Again, Pam found herself on the verge of tears. Jim clicked the door shut quietly behind him, and soon she heard him, busy at his desk with a sales call.

"Well, we're actually out of that stock right now. Yes sir, I know that's a huge inconvenience…"

Pam sighed, pushing her chair out from the table and wincing at the scrape and squeak of the metal against the tile floor. She walked to the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee, trying to punctuate all of the empty space his language left behind. The blinds on the windows were drawn, but she still had a clear view of the office. Meredith was trying to inconspicuously sip from the plastic cup that never left her side. Angela was punching a calculator aggressively. Kelly was staring at Ryan, looking away quickly each time he would notice and look up at her. And Jim was sitting at his desk, tapping a pencil against his mouse pad. His tie was already loosened, hair already messy, and she could see him already getting aggravated with Dwight. It was strange watching him, noticing all of the little movements that she usually told her self to ignore, to block out, the little smiles and looks she had trained herself not to see, because there was just so much that she could picture about Jim.

She could picture Jim, his eyes dark and his breathing strained, kissing her until neither of them remembered where they were. She could envision the two of them in an Italian restaurant, laughing over a horrible movie they'd just seen. She could see herself falling asleep to the steady sound of his breathing and the warm weight of his arm around her waist. She could imagine lazy Sunday mornings filled with dusty sunshine and the smell of his favorite tee shirt. She could see Jim down on one knee in the middle of a rose filled living room, asking her to spend the rest of her life with him.

She could picture Jim standing in a three piece suit, the kind that Roy never wanted, grinning at her as she walked down the aisle in a simple white dress. She could imagine him kissing her gently and a church full of people cheering, clapping and offering tears of approval. She could see Jim with his tie undone, swaying with her to the strains of a song that seemed to have been created just for them. She could see him carrying her over the threshold of a house with a terrace, setting her gently on the ground and kissing her until her lips ached.

She could picture Jim standing beside her, holding her hand anxiously as they marveled at their first sonogram. She could think of him on the phone with his mom, bursting with the news that she was going to be a grandma, that he was going to be a daddy. She could see Jim kissing her gently as they shopped for a crib, fussing over which one was safest. She could dream of Jim rubbing her growing belly, grinning like mad at the first kick, sitting and kissing her tummy as he read "Green Eggs and Ham" to their unborn baby. She could picture Jim in the delivery room, tears in his eyes as he held their baby, in total awe of what he had helped to create.

She could picture Jim as the type of man that wanted a house full of kids, rooms full of gangly boys with his startling green eyes and girls with her stubbornly curly hair. He seemed so natural with children, they were almost drawn to him and he handled them with such a tenderness and ease that it made her heart hurt. She could just see him encouraging a boy named Colin to go for the lead in the school play, never minding the fact that he wasn't a football stud or a soccer star. She could envision Jim sitting on a worn couch with a little girl named Abby snuggled in his lap, enfolding her in his arms and reading "Goodnight, Moon" before carrying her up the stairs and tucking her into bed, whispering, 'Goodnight, dear heart" as he switched on the night light and shut the door.

…She could picture Jim in so many ways it scared her.


End file.
